


Standalones

by Ee4ee



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 21:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10317743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ee4ee/pseuds/Ee4ee
Summary: A series of one-shot stories and writing scraps, each chapter its own. Mostly done by request from random people. Cast, concepts, and quality all vary drastically.(chapter-by-chapter viewing mode recommended for this reason. Chapter names are story titles)





	1. Hands

_What a beautiful night for training. So easy to see the stars on such a clear night_ , Ledian thought as she flashed into existence.

 

As the only nocturnal pokemon of the team, her training session was always last, just after sunset. Her trainer- the kind soul he was- let her out of her pokeball while the second-to-last pokemon was still working out so she could enjoy the starlight. She always welcomed it, even though she couldn’t spend the time with him. He was always busy finishing up the previous pokemon’s training.

 

Ledian flitted out of the small clearing and towards the nearby road. The path was deserted, save a couple humans sitting on a park bench. They were chatting easily with each other, though Ledian couldn’t make out what about. Between them, their hands were clasped. That was a human sign of affection and friendship, wasn’t it?

 

Ledian looked down to her chest. Hanging from her neck was a small sack, filled with a dark-colored lightweight clay. She opened it as she settled to the ground, folding her wings away behind her spotted elytra and looking inside. A sparkly material was mixed throughout the dark mass, approximating the stars in the night sky Ledian was so fond of. It was a wonderful gift from her trainer, and the times she was active during the day she liked looking into it often. She had always wondered how she could return the gesture.

 

* * *

 

 

After resting in the grass for a while, she figured enough time had passed for the prior training session to have concluded. Her trainer was easy to spot even through the forest; his red tracksuit stood out like a beacon in the darkness. He was sitting down on the grass, taking a drink from a water bottle. Good, he was finished! She wouldn’t be interrupting anything when…

 

He passed the water bottle to something beside him, blocked from her perspective. Two wicked blades appeared to pin it between them, and pulled the bottle away. As she got closer her trainer’s Kabutops came into view. Ledian dropped out of the air immediately and crouched into the underbrush. The vicious-looking creature always terrified her, but she rarely had to encounter it; normally it was first in the daily training routine. Before she could think much on it, the Kabutops had finished slaking its thirst, and inside its pokeball with a flash.

 

Relieved, she wandered into the clearing. Her trainer lifted his head up at her approach, smiling that wonderful smile she was so fond of and holding out her training goggles. “Sorry about the wait. Guess we’re ready to start!”

 

Even as she hustled over with a renewed vigor, part of her felt disappointed. Hand-holding will have to wait.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Even through the green-blue tint of the goggles, Ledian could easily see which of the two strange devices her trainer was lifting. The thin black cylinder meant she had to use Light Screen. The iridescent barrier appeared before her just before the laser pointer activated, and the red beam was reflected off into the sky. As fast as he could, her trainer then brought up the strange slingshot-like contraption in his other hand. The gently glowing bubble of Reflect formed just in time for the soft gel packet to bounce off it and drop to the ground. She waited while he reloaded the contraption, zagging back and forth through the air to keep her energy up. Halfway through the process she saw his right hand twitch, and bright up another Light Screen before he could even raise it fully to turn the laser pointer on her again.

 

“Got me there! Alright, bring it in,” he said, laughing. As she drifted over he tossed out one of the balloons sitting behind him. Ledian immediately picked up speed, coming at the floating object on a curving trajectory. She struck it in a manner that allowed her to immediately shove it away from her, and flew on a different arc back toward her trainer. Normally she would be intercepted by her own pokeball and disappear, but not during training.

 

She landed in the grass near him, and walked over to him on the ground. This was the perfect chance, just after a really good training session. Halfway to him though, he rolled a water bottle at her across the ground. She was terribly thirsty, every training was a workout…

 

By the time she had finished drinking, sitting in the grass with her goggles beside her, another human had approached. She recognized the woman; her trainer’s sister. She always thought it funny how she wore a red jacket like her trainers, but much shorter black pants. Related humans looked alike, but not alike enough, she supposed.

 

Ledian walked over to the pair, not to be denied. She tugged on her trainer’s pantleg to get his attention. He looked down at her and smiled. “Not now. We’ll talk soon, okay?” His smile was the last thing Ledian saw as she disintegrated into her pokeball.

 

* * *

 

 

True to his word, she re-appeared shortly after. Before she could even look around however, she heard his voice, “Just like we trained, Ledian, let’s do this!” She focused in front of her. There was a Shellder, sitting on the ground before her trainer’s sister. A battle then.

 

Her trainer always taught her that if it lived in the water, she should start with light screen. Not long after the iridescent field appeared between her and her opponent, it started to rain. She didn’t need to look up to know it was still cloudless; she could feel the light of the stars on her back. Strange, but it did not change her routine. Soon after she raised her Reflect bubble, however…

 

“Alright Shellder, now use Rock Blast!”

 

She had just enough time to hear her trainer loudly exclaim his confusion before she leapt into action. The first stone hit her barrier at an odd angle and was deflected into the ground. She was able to just barely dodge the second. The third hit her square in the chest, and lights exploded across her vision from the force of the hit even after the Reflect bubble had weakened it. She felt herself spin around when the fourth clipped her shoulder and hit her elytra, sending her to the ground and under the path of the fifth rock. She landed hard on her back, saving her wings from harm only by instinct as her elytra snapped closed, though the injured one still stuck out at a slight angle.

 

She admired the stars in her vision as she looked up to the sky, though she knew some of these were bad stars mixed in with the good ones. She barely registered that the blade-armed brute flashed into existence beside her, distant concern fleeting as it jumped at the opponent with unbelievable speed. Heavy footsteps told her that her trainer was approaching, and she slowly looked up to see his arrival. She held an arm towards him, though she could barely lift it she felt so weak. As she blacked out, her only thought was how much she wanted her trainer to take her hand.

 

* * *

 

 

Once more, stars. Only the good kind this time. Ledian basked in their gentle twinkling. On one side of her was her pokeball, and a thin golden octahedron. On the other, her trainer, knelt over her. His sister was nowhere in sight.

 

“I’m so sorry about that, Ledian. I never even knew a Shellder could know that move. If it’s any consolation, you helped us win the battle!” Ledian looked up into his eyes, at once apologetic, happy, and caring. He was so gracious even with her failures. She held her arms up towards him. There was nothing stopping it now, right? Just the two of them here, she could finally return his affection?

 

Instead of grabbing them, however, he bundled her up in his arms. “You did well out there,” he said, close enough for her to feel his breath playing across her carapace. Then he leaned in even closer, and she felt his lips on her forehead, as a gentle kiss.

 

If she had skin, she would have blushed. It was another form of affection she knew, a rare one. Stronger, more important. She relished her trainer’s attention, and she’d never seen him kiss any of his other pokemon before.

 

Now she had two reasons to repay him.


	2. Second

He had beaten two gyms for her, alone. Spent months of time as her only company while they trained. Guided and protected her through Petalburg Woods because she was spacey enough she’d get lost on her own. His reward was replacement by some runty rat of rock and rust.

  


Just weeks ago he shared an emotional moment with his trainer after he evolved in this very cave, before they challenged Brawly. Grovyle had felt nothing could ever get between them. Then the Mauville Gym happened. A close fight, but he still let her down, resulting in their first loss as a team. Grovyle felt devastated when he came to, but his trainer smiled and shrugged it off. She said she’d go get him some help before they tried again. She gave up on him, just like that! She stuffed him back in his pokéball before he could react. Next thing he knew they were back in Granite Cave. Instead of knocking out the first Aron they saw, she captured it. Replacing him was just that easy.

  


His trainer played with the usurper even now, so Grovyle simply wandered off to train on his own. He was inconsolable, not that any consolation was forthcoming. He had to get stronger on his own; that was the only way she’d notice him once more. Through his anger and his sorrow he smashed and clawed a boulder for all he was worth. There existed a way for him to use his forearm leaves as blades, as they were stiff and sharp, but he had to perfect the technique before he could return to his trainer again. It relied on the angle, he was sure of it. Focusing to the exclusion of all awareness of his surroundings, he lost track of time as he practiced the same strike over and over and over again.

  


Before him lay only rubble by the time he satisfied himself with his progress. A downward, sharply pulled swing of his arm achieved the best results. Confirmation came with every squat, steely scumbag he ran across as he backtracked through the caves to find his trainer and her big dopey backpack. He vented his frustration on them and their resemblance to his hated foe, training just as his trainer had taught him; defeat everything in sight. The final one sat at his destination he knew, the ultimate insult to his skills. When he found the pair, illuminated by the light of her camping lamp, it pranced around like it owned the place. Sickening.

  


“Grovyle! I was getting worried,” his trainer called out to him on his arrival. The implication made him seethe; she had to keep her eye on her little failure lest he hurt himself. He would just have to show her what he learned. Standing by a large rock and mentally preparing himself, he waved her over to get her attention.

  


The iron anklebiter had other ideas. It only took a toothy tug on the pantleg to distract his trainer from him once more. Fuming, Grovyle stomped off after them as they trekked deeper into Granite Cave.

  


After he had calmed down, thanks to his quieter movement he ran across many pokémon that the pair ahead of him missed, and he defeated them all. Nothing would come between him and his trainer, and each encounter allowed him to hone his new technique. It was only a matter of time before he proved himself superior.

  


Eventually, his trainer’s noisy, oblivious passage aroused the ire of a Zubat, who – unlike the others to this point – seemed determined to take it out on the clumsy human. Grovyle shrieked at it, as much to get his trainer’s attention as to try and intimidate it, and leapt at it with an overhead chopping motion. The leaves on both arms connected with his target in a savage slash, and the bat collapsed to the floor, out cold in a single swing. The risky, flashy move had paid off, and Grovyle was eminently satisfied with his performance. But when he looked up at his trainer, she was just turning around to face him. She had missed the whole encounter, never even knew she was in danger. Looking between him and the bat, she flashed that loathsome smile he swore held no meaning, before turning her back on him once more.

  


Disabling wild pokémon remained the only distraction from his ire. Every time he would knock out a pokémon, his trainer would be commanding that damnable Aron to attack some other target, ignoring him. The only thing stopping him from attacking his true enemy was his firm belief that his trainer would dismiss him on the spot.

  


The wretched creature had far less endurance than he, and before long started to flag. Grovyle harrumphed as it was recalled back into its pokéball before it burned itself out. The useless thing couldn’t endure a couple hour training session. What a pathetic specimen. It was his time to shine now, he knew, as his trainer checked her watch and walked over to him.

  


“It’s getting late, Grovyle. Let’s head back out.”

  


Grovyle’s eyes boggled as she jogged past him back the way they came. She would just skip his turn, pay him no attention even in the vile beast’s absence? He ran up alongside her and yammered angrily. She just laughed and picked up the pace, as if it were some sort of race. Grovyle balled his hands into fists as he ran behind her.

  


His mood quickly changed when they finally exited Granite Cave. Night had fallen early enough before that no traces of sunset remained; six or more hours must have passed since they entered it. That he had lost track of time stunned him, and he watched dumbfounded as his trainer set up her miniature tent where the forest met the beach.

  


It had been awhile since they camped out, an activity he always loved. Before long he was helping her with her preparations, gathering some tinder and kindling as he always had done. In her forgetfulness she had forgotten any cookable foodstuffs, but they had gone several nights on trial rations before, and it didn’t bother him any. The fire was still nice for warmth, though it still put him on edge time to time.

  


After their most basic meal, he found himself in his trainers lap. The back of his head rested on top of her chest as she played with the long leaf trailing from the top of his head, like she used to do when they were training to defeat Brawly just after he evolved. In the back of his mind, he found the buttering-up suspicious; she had found a new pokémon, he was through. What was the point?

  


“I want to apologize for yesterday,” his trainer began, her voice quiet. “I messed up back there in Mauville, and you paid the price. Even in the moment I have a hard time focusing, and I miss things I shouldn’t as a trainer.” She stopped playing with the leaf on his head, just wrapping her arms around him and hugging him. “I wanted to get some backup, in case I screw up again. That way I might still pull out a win, so you’d at least not suffer in vain. I don’t think it’ll be a problem though; I saw the work you were doing on that big boulder. You looked so intense, so into it, that I didn’t want to disturb you. You have some serious moves, and I really wish I was able to match your dedication and focus.” She leaned down and kissed him on his forehead then, “Sorry for letting you down. I’ll do my best to make sure it won’t happen again.”

  


Oh.

  


She had done all of this not to replace him, but just to be able to give him peace of mind if it ever repeated itself. He never felt she was to blame for their loss, no matter what feelings she revealed about it now. The dedication he put into his training was all for her, and even now he wondered if she knew that; trying to get that point across would have been a much more productive use of the day than succumbing to the fear she was rejecting him. The concerns of the day melted away instantly, as he turned in her arms and hugged her back. She kissed him on the forehead again when he nuzzled her cheek.

  


“We’re going back there tomorrow, and this time we’re not leaving until we have a badge.”


	3. Growth

Twelve days into the new fertilizer treatment, Roselia knew something was strange. She had suspicions almost a week ago, but after morning measurements seeming to prove her theory right, she didn’t even need to check today. She felt heavier once she retracted her roots and stood, stepping over to where she knew her trainer kept his flexible measuring tape. As every day, she felt thankful her soil bed was in the same room he kept his hobby equipment. On top of being well-lit by the numerous skylights, it meant she could measure her proportions without arousing suspicion. Since he didn’t come down until a couple hours before noon, in the early morning she had the room to herself.

 

As she had done for the past five days, she sat down atop the plastic square and, with small vines protruding from between the petals of her flowers, pulled on the tab sticking out one corner. She stood up and held her arms out, pulling the tape out three clicks. Dropping the tab and reaching for the tape where it met the corner of the plastic square, she repeated the process for another three clicks. Again and again, until the tape had clicked twenty-one times.

 

She ran the exposed length of the tape out in a straight line across the table, threading a path through the brushes and scalpels and carving tools strewn about. She set it down at its full length, and carefully laid down on top of it, pinning the tab between her body and her arm. She rolled herself over the tape, wrapping it around her chest, making sure the end didn’t move and she didn’t wrap her arm as well. After one full rotation, she looked at the number now sitting over where the tape ended. A red 16 was revealed under her arm.

 

In under a week the distance around her chest had grown by two units of whatever the tape measures. She wasn’t sure what ‘cm’ meant, but she saw her trainer take a lot of notes with numbers marked such, so she figured it was some sort of standard. The rate of growth seemed to be slowing down, but she told herself at two ticks she would try to get her trainer’s attention about it. She couldn’t remember what the human’s term for that specific measurement was – something to do with damage, ‘broken’, or maybe ‘busted’ – but she was getting more of it so she was a little concerned. Though she felt better than she ever had before, it never hurt to check.

 

After climbing back into the boat hull filled with dirt that was her home, Roselia thought about how she could alert her trainer. She knew he would spend most of the day in here; the wooden model in the middle of the room was nearing completion. It was four times longer than she was tall, and her small size and the dexterity of her vines allowed her to help him assemble it, something she was proud of. However, there was a deadline for a race coming up, and he would be absorbed in his work. Despite the hours she would have in his presence, she wasn’t sure that she would be able to convince him to examine her close enough.

 

She knew the problem was localized around her chest, with the way her body’s curves were changing. She remembered her trainer talking to a friend of his, speaking about another human. He had made gestures indicating the subject of the conversation had a large chest as well, and made a comment about taking them to his bed for the night. Maybe he’d be able to inspect Roselia there tonight.

 

The day progressed much as Roselia thought it would; her trainer showed up two hours to noon, and the two of them scrambled over every conceivable element of the model ship. Between inserting new pieces, trimming old ones, testing mechanical elements, and detail work, Roselia never got the chance to try and draw her trainer’s attention. She got close once; when he complimented her aroma filling the room, but she couldn’t get across her concerns before he returned to his work. She enjoyed the time they spent together doing this, and slowly the issue faded from her mind.

 

It wasn’t until just before bedtime she remembered it again. Her trainer placed her in her soil bed and reached for the nutrient spray, but she shook her head and latched onto his sleeve with her vines. She was relieved when he seemed to get the idea, and took her up to his bedroom. After he had placed her on the bed and vanished, however, she came to a terrible realization. Her roots couldn’t find purchase in this material, no matter how soft it was. She couldn’t get any nutrients tonight if she stayed here. Now was not the time to turn back, though. She would just have to stick with it

 

Unfortunately, during the night, she had as little luck as the day. Her trainer had initially placed her at the other end of the bed, saying he was afraid that he would crush her. It was a problem she hadn’t considered. She eventually got around the issue by climbing up to where his head rested on his pillow, and sleeping there. By the time she completed this cross-bed expedition however, he was already asleep.

 

The thought of her trainer dozing off that fast confounded Roselia. She was tempted to wake him up by tickling his nose, but held back. He had looked very tired at the day’s end, and seeing him asleep brought her a peaceful sensation. She wondered if the scent of her flowers might help him rest better, and contented herself with enjoying his silent presence. Deciding to leave him how he was, she settled down atop his pillow and fell asleep herself.

 

* * *

 

Thirteen days into the new fertilizer treatment, Roselia felt strangely refreshed. She expected to be exhausted, drained of energy like she had never even slept at all, considering she could not take any sustenance from her trainer’s bed through the night. This morning however she felt perfectly rested.

 

She felt around her chest, and discovered that it had actually shrunk overnight. Without the measuring tape she didn’t know by how much, but the difference was noticeable. The swelling must have been her body storing extra nutrients, she realized. Thanks to that, she was able to stay by her trainer’s side all night with no ill-effects. The thought elated her, both the discovery it wasn’t a problem at all and the knowledge she could spend this much time with him.

 

She looked over to him as he laid on his back, still asleep. She was shocked to discover that some part of his body had swelled last night in place of hers. She wondered how she might possibly help him with it as she wandered closer for a more thorough inspection…


	4. Outcast

A Tropius in flight was deceptively quiet for its size, but out in the wilderness, Cal could still pick up the sound easily. He dashed outside to check what the postman had left him this time. It was either a new shipment of sensors, or another of those damned letters.

 

As it would turn out, it was both.

 

Despite having a mailing address expressed in latitude and longitude coordinates instead of street names and house numbers, the letters always managed to find their way to him. He ripped open the envelope and scanned its contents as he carried the box back to his cabin. ‘We apologize… concerned citizens… disaster prevention… no longer allowed within city limits… effective immediately.’ Each one read more or less the same. Cal wondered if they passed around a form letter just in case they took affront to him showing his face somewhere. He tossed the letter on his small dining table as he walked to his workbench and put the box down.

 

Twelve sensor-stakes sat inside, pristine albeit over-packaged. The simple act of opening the box caused an eruption of packaging peanuts. At his irritated sigh, a high-pitched titter rang out from the kitchen. He took out each smaller box within and lined them up across the back of his workbench, where several older models sat with their innards spilling out. The Weather Institute had recalibrated some of his sensors without consulting him, so he was working on a way to remove these specific nodes from his main network. Considering how much they were paying him to access his networks, he thought they’d leave his equipment alone.

 

Satisfied his shipment arrived intact, he sat heavily at the dining table in the middle of the small cabin. This long room took up half of what passed for his house these days, a dining area, lounge, workshop, and laboratory all rolled into one. Behind one wall was his bedroom, and behind its opposite, his kitchen and bathroom. For what was little more than a permanent bug-out shelter, he thought it was well-appointed. It even had working plumbing, connected to a filtered well nearby.

 

Staring at him from her bed, under the preposterously large map occupying the entire rear wall, was the reason all this was necessary.

 

“Another town barred us entry, Ten,” Cal told the Absol as it walked up to him. “At least we can still get supplies from Fortree. Figures a bunch of people living in glorified treehouses to get away from it all would appreciate our efforts more than the people living in their vulnerable tower of glass and steel. I guess preconceptions and superstition go hand in hand where you least expect it.” Ten whined and put her head in his lap. He scratched her head around the base of its blade-like horn and kissed her on the head. “C’mon, you know I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to.”

 

With a loud trill, his other housemate appeared from the kitchen, carrying a tea kettle underneath her small floating body. She delicately placed the steaming kettle in the exact center of the table before dashing off again. “Missy!” Cal called after her. “We just had tea, what, three hours ago? You do this every time we both happen to be at the table.”

 

The ghost-type just laughed back from the kitchen.

 

Ten tugged on Cal’s pantleg with a delicate bite and whined again.

 

“Got another one? Show me.”

 

The Absol paced over to the rear wall with him in tow. The massive map occupying almost all of the wall’s surface was studded with pins of different colors. White ones marked locations in Cal’s sensor-stake network. Red ones marked previous incidents, pinning to the map little scraps of paper containing short descriptions of the event. The other pins sunk into cities and towns. Several yellow ones marked places they had warned in the past, with positive reception. Far more were the black pins, places they were no longer welcome in thanks to their kindness.

 

Ten tapped a place on the map with a paw, then tapped her forepaws on the ground in a specific pattern, right-right-left.

 

“How bad?” Cal asked in response

 

 Three taps with her right paw

 

“Well, that’s certainly worth an attempt.” Cal retrieved a blue pin from a nearby tray, along with a scrap of paper and a pen. He wrote ‘TD F3’ on the paper and pinned it to the map in the location Ten had specified. Three other pins sat in the area; one yellow and two whites. He would have to stick around to make sure his sensors remained planted after the tornado passed. This town was grateful for his services; he knew they’d offer him somewhere to stay free of charge for the duration, though no longer.

 

When he turned back to the table, he found three teacups sitting on saucers spaced around the table at exactly equal intervals. He knew each would be a precise distance from the edge of the table, filled to a specific amount. His Misdreavus had her little ritual down to a science, as exacting as his hourly recording of the mercury thermometer and barometer on the wall, as practiced as the motions Ten used to tell Cal what’s coming next.

 

“Fine, you win. Again.” Cal sat back down in the only chair at the table. Ten sat on her haunches before her own cup and peered inside. With a delighted trill, Missy faded into existence over her own cup. Cal and Missy picked up their cups at the same time, and both took a sip when Ten took her first lap at the hot liquid.

 

Immediately, Cal perked up. As much as he despised the taste, Missy’s tea always provided some sort of positive energy, somehow both relaxing and energizing. For a creature who fed off the fear and anguish their predictions inevitably caused, and thrived in the grief-stricken atmosphere they always found following the disasters they forecast, the pokémon somehow knew how to make a hell of a pick-me-up. Her tea was probably the only reason he wasn’t an alcoholic yet.

 

Cal turned to the Misdreavus, who was beaming with happiness as Ten quietly lapped up the concoction. “One of these days I’m going to find where you hide whatever you put in this. And I’m going to use it all up baking cookies or something.” Missy snickered and shook her head.

 

He downed the rest of his cup and placed it on the saucer before him. “Alright, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll call the Weather Institute tomorrow, ask them for funding for a ferry ticket and two weeks’ worth of room and board. We can take the high-speed the day after, that’ll be three days on the water until we get ashore. Day four we’ll take the train inland; the conductor on the twelve-thirty never remembers who we are. We’ll get there that evening. Will that be enough time?” Ten, who watched him intently as he rattled off the itinerary, nodded her head affirmative.

 

“Great. The town’ll get us a place free of charge, we’ll toss the money we save into the fund they’ll set up for the victims, if any, check the stakes the day after it hits, and make our way back the day after that.” Cal looked into his now-empty cup. “It’ll be nice getting good food for more than a week straight, but I think I’m going to miss this horrid stuff.”


	5. Feedback

It was not unusual for Gardevoir to be left outside her pokéball at night, but it did not happen every night. Sometimes she was left out to complete specific tasks, and she was happy to oblige. Other times, whether forgetfulness, distractedness, or any number of other reasons, she found herself out with little to do. On one notable occasion, her trainer had put himself down for a nap, and she decided to join him. Waking her with a flurry of emotions, her trainer made a comment about her backside and recalled her into her ball. For a good many nights after that she lost what she had started to think of as wander-the-house privilege, until only recently.

  


Over time she was able to piece together that her trainer had not been mad at her, specifically, but flustered. Eventually she came across several sources in magazines and on her trainer’s PC that led her to believe large posteriors were desirable to human males like her trainer in particularly unwholesome ways. Part of her was scandalized. Part of her was thrilled at the potential source of attention. The latter drove her further investigation to find her own asset was visibly larger than others of her kind

  


The day she snuggled in for a nap with him, she awoke to a peculiar hue in the palette of emotions painted across her empathic bond. It was a color she only saw fleetingly, usually when girls his age on the street caught his attention. She was confused when she saw it in that case, but now understood it was due to her peculiarly attractive rump. When she least expected it was in the middle of the night with nobody around, like this very moment. Yet, here it was.

  


The dull greys of boredom were slowly being painted over with the strange bluish purple tint of what she understood to be a form of lust. Instead of being quickly erased or painted over as usual, it was joined by shades of fuchsia arousal, and these colors slowly started to tint the entire emotional space the two shared.

  


Gardevoir braced herself and released a heavy sigh before turning to head upstairs. The encroachment of strange shades in her bond were not altogether unpleasant, and it played to the part of her mind that appreciated the lurid attention she had apparently drawn before. If her trainer truly did see her in that sort of way, it wasn’t bad to enjoy their bond even during times like this, she thought. By the time she reached the foot of the stairs leading to their home’s bedrooms, she figured she wasn’t going to tell him to stop, just inform him the effect it had on her.

  


Somewhere halfway up the mere twelve steps she had lost track of how long it had taken. Her legs felt heavy by the time she reached the top, a weakness she hadn’t noticed before. The colors in her head, long since drowned out all others, were bright and vivid now. She turned almost drunkenly for his door. She’d really like to know what he was doing, maybe she could watch

  


When she cracked open the door, she beheld on his PC screen some human girls revealing pieces of anatomy Gardevoir had never seen before. The empathic lightplay in her mind started to swirl and turn, making her mildly dizzy. She thought to herself how nice it would be to help him with whatever was driving him to this, if he could help her in return.

  


By the time Gardevoir had reached his chair, the drive was blindingly bright, drowning out even any tints of other feelings. The drive was a need. What she needed was to mate, to be bred. The images of human females on his screen and their likeness to her own anatomy confirmed compatibility. Gardevoir needed a job done, and her trainer had the right tools to do the work on her. To her. In her.

  


When she spun the chair around roughly, her trainer didn’t even jump or cry in alarm. She could see in his eyes, wild with desire, how completely lost it he was in the feelings bouncing between them. Their empathic link had created a feedback effect, amplifying each other’s lust higher and higher until there was no room for anything else. From his lap his dick throbbed, and to Gardevoir at that moment nothing else could look more tempting.

  


She was seized by indecision. It felt like all higher thought had shut down until the execution of this bodily task. How was she going to do this? Every fiber of her body told her she needed too, and not enough suggested a way how. Her trainer took this opportunity to act, grabbing the halves of her rear, groping and kneading them. Just that contact with him was electrifying. Sensing and growing irritated with the delay, her body decided it was time to go back to basics. She turned around and dropped to her knees and elbows, presenting herself. If her trainer desired her rear that bad, he could get a good look at it, as long as he hurried up and rutted her.

  


Though she could feel by his grip that he thoroughly enjoyed the view, he did not waste too long at the sights. Soon she felt the tip of his cock at her entrance, already slick with her juices.

  


The blinding brilliance of lusty hues were finally banished with a grand brushstroke of pleasure and joy, ramping up so fast between each other’s bond she never saw it coming. The actual physical penetration quickly became a backseat to this experience, and as she distantly felt him thrust physically, the sensual signatures of it exploded across her mindspace and his alike, taking center stage. She could almost feel the act from his perspective, and a far-off, semi-foreign, and utterly inconsequential part of mind wondered if he could feel what she was going through at his hands.

  


The room quickly filled with the sound of their ragged breathing and the smell of their self-lubricated sex. The only thing she could taste was her own forming sweat, and her sight was completely demolished by the visuals playing across her trainer’s mental link. Her sense of touch was providing a truly divine stimulus, the feeling of her trainer’s cock inside her the greatest physical sensation she had ever experienced, doubled and redoubled by the psychic impact of the act they shared.

  


Her sense of time suffered as well, and she didn’t know whether they had gone three minutes or thirty before she felt her box start to tighten around him. She tried to hold it back, but every time she tried another thrust from behind would send another jolt straight through her brain from one side to the other, destroying any attempt. The rhythmic quivering of her nethers, or perhaps her sudden greater mental focus on it, proved too much for her trainer to handle, and as she felt herself flooded with his hot cum, she swore she blanked out for a moment, the feeling of pleasure was so strong. She realized she had clamped down on him during this explosion of sensation, and even as the psychic pleasure faded back to put physical pleasure to the fore, she relished the sensation of her body milking his dick for everything it had.

  


Gardevoir collapsed to the floor in front of him. She just barely escaped a whole new existence defined only by pain as she turned and landed on her shoulder, narrowly avoiding crushing the gem-like horn protruding from her chest against the hardwood floor. A large volume of her trainer’s seed escaped her crevice as she lay there, trying to piece back together her pleasure-shattered mind.

  


Her trainer fell back into a sitting position behind her. Through the aftershocks wracking her body from end to end, she couldn’t even muster the strength to look at him. Hear ears tried calling her brain, but her brain didn’t pick up, so they choose to leave a message. “Psychic sex... is the… best thing… I’ve done,” her trainer was struggling to make barely two words between breaths. Her labored panting was not much better.

  


The emotional link was normalizing, relinquishing hold of the faculties it had stolen from her. She was heartened to know there was no shame here, from either of them. Only the lingering pleasure of the act and a joy at their deepened bond were left behind. A couple minutes passed before either of them were capable of moving in any appreciable way. The sound of shuffling behind her told Gardevoir that her trainer had returned to a kneeling position, and she didn’t think of it until he felt the tips of his fingers brush her back.

  


“Gaaa!” A jolt crashed through her brain as he grabbed the translucent structure protruding from her back, the physical contact amplifying their connection by orders of magnitude. He pressed her back against his chest as she went limp in his grip, an arm around her collarbone holding her against him while his free hand slipped under one of her thighs. He gently lifted her into his lap.

  


“Let’s get that wonderful ass in my lap and try this again,” he murmured in her ear. Gardevoir nodded as vigorously as her still-returning strength allowed her, but was stopped by a gentle hand on one cheek and his lips on the other. She managed to turn in his grip to plant her lips on his, and their tongues danced as he finished positioning them for a second run. She lost herself completely in their amplified link as he thrust home once more, scattering her mind to the winds of ecstasy.


	6. Providence

The worst thing about doing a job well; everyone recognized it. Mal’s horse did a real fine job. These days he kept his horse in the queer little capsule he found near it when he was in town, currently hooked to his belt. If not for that he would have been starving for the last month. He was a smart man though, learned to dismount half a mile out and walk the rest of the way; if anyone questioned his lack of ride, he knew a few good sob stories. Now he was just an unfortunate blown in from the desert, stopping over at the local tavern.

Getting a drink with the most wanted man within a hundred miles.

Neither of them said much, but Mal was still smarting from losing a good deal of money along with the poker game they played, and he figured the outlaw was humble in victory. Either way, that money was at least good enough to buy him the drink as it went, and the two sat side-by-side nursing their own.

Mal would marvel at the strange generosity of a man who killed men and robbed banks to buy poor card players booze, if he was able to keep his mind off the two men in the corner loudly discussing his mount. The way his last few jobs went, they might even be friends of the outlaw’s. His arm still ached from when he found that out the hard way last year. He’d have to find a way to separate his mark

“The devil’s own horse, they say. Red eyes, mane of fire. Lord knows how the man even rides it,” one of them said

“I reckon he’s the devil’s own lawman,” the other.

“I reckon he’d be a straighter shot.”

The two shared a laugh at his expense, and Mal bit his tongue. At this range at least, he could hit them. Probably.

He and the outlaw finished their drinks about the same time. Best way to split him from his buddies was to get him outside. Some carefully-worded honestly usually did the trick. Just in case, as Mal turned to him, he put a hand on the red and white sphere at his waist. Letting the thing out indoors always proved a good distraction. “Get me another and I’ll give you a tip more than it’s worth.”

The outlaw eyed him and then grinned, waving the bartender over. “Give him the best you got, I want to hear something good.” The bartender dutifully vanished into a back room.

“Last town I hit before getting my horse shot out from under me here, man was looking for someone fitting your description. I don’t know who stole your face, but you’re an upstanding guy, and I’d hate you to get brought in on account of mistaken identity.”

“That so?” The outlaw looked him up and down again, face much colder. Mal pushed on the sphere’s stud with a finger, but not hard enough to trigger it. But when the outlaw stood, he didn’t reach for either of his guns. “Guess I’ll lay low awhile. Thanks, stranger.” Without another word, he turned to the door.

Mal stood himself and headed for the bathroom. The two men in the corner were still chattering, now about some less relevant topic. If they could keep each other occupied, he might have his mark in a cell before the pair even left this tavern. By the time Mal reached the small hallway leading to the back, however, the outlaw drew their attention when he spoke from the door.

“Horse shot out from under you, huh?” Mal turned to face the tavern’s entrance, where the outlaw stood with both hands on his hips. “Funny story, coming from a man with a full belt and six chambers. Way I see it, only man who wouldn’t shoot back is a liar, or a legend of a bad shot.”

Mal ducked behind the corner before the man had even drawn. Four holes appeared in the wall across from him.

He ducked through the open door to his right. This placed him in a shielded corner next to the bar, and with a small mirror produced form his pocket, he could see the tavern entrance was already empty. The two men in the corner waited with guns drawn on the hallway he just left. Mal steeled himself with a long breath as he put the mirror back and drew his gun.

Popping up over the counter, he shot a bullet at each of them. Both bullets hit the same man. Fortunately his unscathed buddy was too shocked to get a shot off before Mal had re-adjusted his aim and put him down too.

The bartender emerged from the back room with a shotgun, and Mal scrambled to pull out his badge. By the time he had it up the bartender had already lowered his gun, but his expression was still grim. He tossed his head towards the back. “Saw him pass by. Heading west.” Mal nodded his thanks, vaulted over the counter, and dashed out the door.

Out in the dusty road, he pushed the stud on the spheroid capsule. A bolt of lightning leapt out and struck the earth, and where it hit stood a near-white horse, already tacked up. Providence looked at him, and a fiery mane and tail flashed into existence.

Mal climbed on and pointed him to the west, along the side of the tavern out to open country. He was able to make out the barest hint of a dust cloud in the distance before Providence took off. At the violent pace the strange horse moved, he had to stand in the stirrups and lean into the wind just to stay on. His death-grip on the reins forbade use of his gun, but Providence had his own way of subduing runaway criminals.

With a flare of fire before him, the horse somehow started moving even faster than the full gallop he’d been running. The flames of his mane surrounded Mal, leaving nary a mark on his clothing, throwing an eerie sparkle into the air around him instead of heat. Twice more the horse erupted flame to accelerate, and Mal wondered if he could leave even sound in his wake, given enough road.

He caught up to his target quickly, but his quarry wasn’t going to go so easy. As the outlaw drew a gone and turned to aim, Mal felt a very peculiar sensation. To his right was now an exact copy of Providence, with a copy of him on his back. Once more he felt the shift, and another image appeared between them. Ahead, the outlaw swung his aim between them, the fired at the middle image. It jerked to the left, and Providence surged closer in sync with the two fakes. The outlaw emptied his cylinder then, wildly spraying bullets at the middle mage, none finding flesh.

Providence executed another of his flame-leaps he used to speed up, and rammed the outlaw’s horse in the side as the images flashed out of existence. The horn on its head bit deep into the horse’s flank, sending it toppling and throwing its rider off to the dirt. Mal pulled back on the reins and steered his horse around, bringing it to a stop supernaturally quickly and trotting up to the fallen criminal. Providence tossed his head, calling forth a tornado around the target, ribbons of flame flowing around its girth. At the display, the outlaw dropped in fear the second gun he’d just pulled, and fell to his knees.

“What kind of creature…” the trapped man muttered as Mal dismounted.

“Poor thing just fell out of the sky on me. I call him Providence, ‘cause he appeared to me like an act of God.” Mal fetched a sturdy rope from a saddlebag and walked to the side of the man, kicking away his gun. “And as you see, when he’s at work, acts of God are commonplace.” To emphasize his point, Mal passed into the small tornado completely unharmed. He started to bind the man where he kneeled, and the tornado dissipated when he finished his work. “You best hope God has mercy on you, where you’re going.”

Providence kneeled so he could secure his catch to the back of his saddle, and mounted back up. “Head back at your best pace; let’s give the man one final show to remember." With a rush of flame, Providence complied, and kicked off back into the desert.


	7. Torment

“Why do you do this t-“

  


Braixen cut her trainer off by licking over his lips, just to see him sputter more. He shoved her face away and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, blushing bright red. She thought his sputtering was adorable, but the blushing took the cake

  


“Why? Why torment me?”

  


Torment was a strong word, Braixen thought. She would tell him how fun it was to tease him if he was capable of understanding her. In lieu of that, she just nuzzled the side of his neck. He sighed and cupped her head against him, scratching her under the ear just as she always liked.

  


“You’re going to be the end of me.”

  


Braixen made a pleased sound and pulled back from his grasp, sitting in front of him at the other end of the bed and staring into his eyes. Staring at her trainer was just one of the many weapons in her arsenal, though quite possibly her favorite. He put on a good show of resisting, staring back at her with a hardened expression. She leaned forward, tilting her head down slightly. He crossed his arms and knitted his brow. She blinked rapidly. His will broke.

  


Eyes dropping to the bed, he slouched over in defeat. “What do you want…?”

  


Braixen thought for a moment before making a plaintive sound and placing one hand on the opposite shoulder, rolling it in an exaggerated fashion.

  


“What, you’re sore? Hurt? You want a massage?” Braixen nodded enthusiastically at that last. “Fine, I suppose. If it’ll get you to stop teasing me, I’ll do it.” Braixen chuffed in delight as her trainer reached out and flipped her over so she lay face-down. She wrapped her long tail around his waist as he straddled her legs and placed his hands on her shoulders, thumbs pressing against her shoulder blades. He very gently rolled his thumbs over her shoulders and upper back, searching for knots and tight spots. Once they got under her fur, his thumbs were cool to the touch thanks to her much higher body temperature, and this element provided a soothing sensation before he even began his work.

  


The massage itself started with her shoulders, though she wasn’t sure whether or not this was due to the gesture she made to ask for it. After he wrapped his fingers around her ribs, the palms of his hands kneaded her shoulder blades while his thumbs rubbed in an arc from the sides of her neck over the top of her collarbone. His hands felt so strong, so powerful, but he always used only enough force to make her melt at his touch.

  


He started to move his hands lower down her back, but she scooched her hips back into his, forcing his hands back onto her shoulders. Though he got the message, she kept her hips lifted against his just a little longer than necessary. That, like sitting in his lap, she knew never failed to draw out a response. Turning her head to the side to look at him from the corner of one eye, sure enough she saw his face once more glowed vivid red.

  


When his hands finally moved down to her lower back once more, she settled in his grip again. His fingers wrapped around her sides now, just above the fringe of fur around her waist. His thumbs worked either side of her spine, running up and down then around-

  


Ooh. Bit of a guilty pleasure there.

  


Whenever he worked the muscles around the base of her tail, Braixen could never hide her reaction. She exaggerated it instead, drawing her tail out from around his waist and tickling under his nose with the tip. His sputtering made her snicker, but she let him get back to work before she annoyed him too greatly.

  


His hands found their way under her waist-fur, playing at the muscles around her hips. If there were anywhere on her body she most appreciated of his attentions, it was her hips. Evolving from a four-legged pokémon to a bipedal one didn’t require her to relearn just how to walk – her body somehow just figured that out on its own – but it still put demand on muscles she never paid much attention to before. Her trainer always knew just how to sort them back out again. She let out a happy hum at his efforts.

  


Instead of moving back up her back like usual, her trainer moved backwards and grasped her right thigh. This was definitely something new, and she wanted to see where it went. He so rarely took initiative on activities with her that the act made this feel special in a strange way. He worked the muscles there expertly, despite never having grabbed her in this manner before. Her left thigh received equal treatment, and she lost herself in relaxation to such an extent that she didn’t notice his hands moved once more until they found themselves at the line where her thighs met her rear. His thumbs massaged her inner thighs in circles as his hands grasped her butt, and it didn’t take long for her to notice those circles were steadily moving upward, but they stopped just short of that particularly sensitive area above

  


“This is what you want, isn’t it? All the grief you give me, it always has some angle to it.”

  


Braixen rolled on her side, not sure how to respond. The thought had crossed her mind before, but she never really paid it much attention. Now that he mentioned it, she felt it might turn out pretty interesting, and it definitely promised to be fun. Part of her still doubted he would actually do it. That part of her had her fetch her stick buried in her tail and gently poke him in the crotch with the unlit end.

  


Those powerful hands she loved dearly spun her around and planted on her back so fast she was afraid he might have broken something. Her body sent her mind no pain though, nothing but anticipation. She returned her stick to her tail as an afterthought as she looked up at his face. Gone was the downcast eyes and resigned expression. Only the blush remained, a hint of its former self and different in character.

  


“You’ve had enough fun with me. Now I get to have fun with you.”

  


As he pinned her to the bed sitting atop her legs and fiddled with his clothes, Braixen sat up and tentatively licked him across the lips. He didn’t even flinch.


End file.
